Closer to Our Graves
by PiaculumDeFatum
Summary: CSIxCSI: Miami Crossover. After Ryan and Greg's break up cripples the pair, Horatio and Grissom stage an intervention in Chicago to try and bring them back together. RyanxGreg SLASH and Angst. Sequel to Take Me or Leave Me.
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N:_**_ Hi everyone! I promised that this would be up sometime in January, and according to my calendar, I have one day left. Unfortunately, I don't have time to publish this tomorrow, so it's happening now. w00t. Anyway, a couple of notes before beginning...  
_

_1. This is once again a songfic in the fact that there are a few lines of a song at the beginning of each chapter. The song this time around is "Closer to Our Graves" by Lucky Boys Confusion_.

_2. This is SLASH! If you don't like it, don't read it! _

_3. Once again, the only 'ship in this fic is Greg/Ryan. This fic, however, will prominently feature Grissom and Horatio, with a little of the other characters, too.  
_

_4. Rated for language, sexual content (probably nothing smutty, sorry), angst and just because. Once again, if you feel the rating should change, let me know. Also un-beta'd, so all mistakes are wonderfully mine._

_5. Please read and review! Reviews make me happy! I always ask for no flames, but hey, if you want to waste your valuable time criticizing someone, please feel free._

_6. This fic, being a WIP, will hopefully have a chapter a month...we'll see. I feel slightly less motivated with this one, but I will do my best to get each chapter up in a timely fashion.  
_

_7. __CSI: and CSI: Miami belong to Jerry Bruckheimer, CBS and Alliance Atlantis. I own neither the characters nor the places nor yet the song. Only the plot. And the OCs. I can't think of any specific spoilers, but if any come up, I'll post them in the A/N before the chapter. _

_8. In this chapter (at least), since it takes place in two separate locations, a break in time that takes place in the same place is denoted by either "_**CSI:CRIMESCENEINVESTIGATIONCSI:CRIMESCENEINVESTIGATIONCSI:CRIMESCENEINVESTIGATION"**_ or "_**CSI:MIAMICSI:MIAMICSI:MIAMICSI:MIAMICSI:MAIMICSI:MIAMICSI:MIAMICSI:MIAMI**_". A break between locations is simply a line._

_9. Songs used in this chapter are as follows: "Words I couldn't Say" by Rascal Flatts, "What Went Wrong" by Blink 182, "Have You Ever" by S Club, and "What Hurts the Most" by Rascal Flatts.  
_

_And now, on with the show!  
_

Closer to Our Graves

Chapter One 

"_The world is blocked out in the bedroom  
The radio won't let (him) down  
Every note is a reminder  
Another failure is born"_

He was drunk. And not the light, playful, floating drunk that always seemed to put him in a good mood. No, he was the harsh, reality-facing drunk, the kind that burned in his veins and dulled his senses to the point of seemingly no return.

He was irritable, too, peeved and irate with the world and himself as he stumbled towards the empty shithole he called his home. Deep in the back corner of his mind, the corner not controlled by the alcohol, he figured he should probably get some furniture. But the booze and the hurt quickly took over, squashing any realism that lingered.

He had reveled in being drunk, earlier that evening. Reveled in it enough to score some phone numbers from some hot chicks (and some hot guys, as well). But as the night wore on and he kept drinking, the easy-going good mood had dissipated with his sanity.

Now he staggered back to his apartment, muttering to himself and shouting at anyone who happened to get in his way. Finally making it to his apartment, he slammed the door behind him, relishing the delightful sound it made.

He continued into the bedroom, suddenly overcome by weariness, the kind that made him feel like he was drowning and couldn't come up for air.

He slumped onto the bed, not even bothering to take his shoes off. He lay back against the mattress, reasoning that he would at least sleep a bit before he got re-plastered in the morning. He closed his eyes and was gone.

Greg Sanders had passed out.

**CSI:CRIMESCENEINVESTIGATIONCSI:CRIMESCENEINVESTIGATIONCSI:CRIMESCENEINVESTIGATION**

Grissom was not pleased. It was supposed to be Greg's first day back at work, and the young CSI had yet to show up. Grissom had had to send Sara on to the crime scene while he waited for the wayward man, who for some reason refused to answer his phone.

His patience was wearing thin. Frustrated, he stormed down the hall to reception. "Judy," he asked, trying to curb his temper, "has Greg called at all?"

Judy looked up, eyes wide. "No, Mr. Grissom. At least, he hasn't called here at all, but that's not unusual. He'd normally call you or Ms. Willows."

Nodding his thanks, Grissom turned toward the door, his face resembling a storm cloud. If Greg wouldn't come to work, work would come to him, and drag him to the crime scene.

It only took about fifteen minutes for Grissom to drive to Greg's house, but his temper was not alleviated by the short drive. He took the stairs two at a time up to Greg's apartment, finally banging on the door. "Greg!"

After a long moment, the door opened, and Greg stood swaying in the doorway, wearing only his boxers and a vacant, glazed grin. "Grishom," he slurred, squinting at him. "What's up?"

Wrinkling his nose in disgust, Grissom asked quietly, "Are you drunk, Greg?"

Greg giggled in an unnaturally high-pitched voice. "Now, Grishom, what would give you that idea?"

"Maybe the stench of alcohol on you and the fact that you're acting like a drunkard?" supplied Grissom, stepping around Greg and into his apartment. "So let me ask you again, and don't lie to me. Have you been drinking?"

Greg's mood shifted rapidly, and Grissom realized he had seriously underestimated and miscalculated how drunk Greg was. "So what if I am?" snarled Greg, his dark eyes flashing in fury. "It's on my own fucking time, so it's none of your goddamn business."

"Except that it's not on your time," snapped Grissom, getting angry himself. "You're supposed to be working, so you're on my time now." He paused to survey Greg's apartment. "Jesus, Greg, what have you been doing?"

Greg's apartment looked as if he'd thrown five raging parties in a row. Empty liquor bottles and beer cans littered the floor. An almost-empty bottle of Jack Daniel's whiskey stood on the counter. Grissom lifted it up and turned to Greg, swishing the amber liquid around. "Did you drink all of this today?"

Greg's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Maybe I did. What's it to you?"

Grissom just shook his head and turned back to the rest of the apartment. A song was playing on the stereo, a warbling country song that sounded more like something Nick would listen to than what Greg would.

"What do I now that you're gone  
No second chance  
No back-up plan  
And no one else to blame  
All I can hear in the silence that remains  
Are the words I couldn't say"

Shaking his head again, Grissom went over to the stereo. "What, no Manson?" he asked casually, fiddling with the radio dial.

Greg just shrugged moodily. "I wasn't in the mood for Manson," he said, slumping on the couch.

Grissom turned to find another radio station, finally getting one that actually came through. Just as he turned away, he realized the song he turned it to wasn't much better.

"I'm sick of always hearing  
All the sad songs  
On the radio  
All day it is there to remind  
An over-sensitive guy  
That he's lost and alone

I can't forgive  
Can't forget  
Can't give in  
What went wrong  
Cuz you said this was right  
You fucked up my life"

Greg looked over at Grissom, his eyes narrowing. "Uh, give me a second," said Grissom, switching the station again.

"Sometimes it's wrong to walk away  
Though you think it's over  
Knowing there's so much more to say  
Suddenly the moment's gone  
And all your dreams are upside down  
And you just want to change  
The way the world goes round  
Tell me

Have you ever loved and lost somebody  
Wish there was a chance to say I'm sorry  
Can't you see  
That's the way I fell  
About you and me  
Baby  
Have you ever felt that your heart was breaking  
Looking down the road you should be taking  
I should know  
Cuz I loved and lost  
The day I let you go"

Greg's eyes were wet, and he stared at the radio, silently mouthing, "Ryan."

Grissom winced. Even if he was emotionally retarded, as someone had once called him, he fully realized that these words had to hit close to home for Greg. Greg hadn't said much when he came back from Miami, simply saying that things hadn't worked between him and Ryan.

Now Greg was staring at the radio as if transfixed, a single tear tracing its path down his cheek.

"Can't help but think that this is wrong  
We should be together  
Back in your arms where I belong  
Even though the moment's gone  
I'm still holding on somehow  
Wishing I could change  
The way the world goes round"

And Greg was gone, tears flooding down his face as he rocked back and forth, body wracked with sobs. Grissom froze, looking at the younger man, panic flaring in his eyes, torn between staying to comfort Greg or running away.

He took the middle road. Taking Greg's arm, he pulled him up. "Ok, Greg, we're going to get you dressed, and I'm going to take you to the lab, where you can talk to Catherine, ok?"

Greg just hiccupped before throwing his arms around Grissom and burying his head in Grissom's shoulder and crying. Grissom stiffened and patted Greg gently on the shoulder. "Greg, I'd really like to help you, but I doubt I'm the best man for the job…especially since you're half-naked and crying."

Sniffling loudly, Greg straightened. "Ok, I feel better," he said, blinking blearily at Grissom. Then his eyes closed and he fell over, passed out from the alcohol.

* * *

Ryan blinked wearily at the crime scene. A body dump in a garbage dump. "How creative," he muttered aloud wryly, setting down his case. He squatted down next to the body. "No defensive wounds," he remarked, surveying the young girl's arms. 

"She probably never knew what hit her," said Alexx. "COD was broken neck, and these bruises on her neck indicate that the killer came up behind her and snapped her neck. Baby girl died instantly."

Nodding distractedly, Ryan brushed a strand of dark blonde hair off the girl's forehead. He stared down at her. "She looks…" he started, breaking off. "She looks like Greg."

Alexx glanced up at him, something akin to pity flickering in her eyes, quickly replaced by cold hardness. "That's nice," she said icily, standing up and brushing off her pants.

Looking up at her, Ryan asked softly, "Are you still angry with me over what happened with Greg?"

"How could I not be?" snapped Alexx. "Intentional or not, you drove baby boy out of your life for good, and I don't blame him. After the way you treated him, I'd walk too."

Ryan was at a loss for words. He blinked at her once before turning back to survey the body, her vicious words still ringing in his ears. _"After the way you treated him, I'd walk too."_ He felt sick, as if he'd just been punched in the stomach, hard.

Calleigh walked up behind him, and he stiffened. She had once been able to cheer him up, a bright ray of sunshine in his life, and probably one of his best friends in Miami, but since this whole thing with Greg, she'd turned cool and distant. "Hey Alexx," she said brightly, ignoring Ryan completely. "What have we got?"

Rolling his eyes, Ryan cleared his throat loudly. "Hi Calleigh," he said, trying to catch her eye. "We've got a female DB, 18 years old. Driver's license says that her name is Emily Greene."

Her gaze turning icy as she looked from Alexx to him, Calliegh said coldly, "Thank you, Ryan. Have you collected any evidence yet?"

There was something in the way she said that, so aloof and condescending, that it made Ryan's ears burn with a mixture of anger and shame, "Not yet," he said through gritted teeth.

Calleigh's gaze never flickered, even as a small smile curved her lips in wicked triumph. "Well, you might want to start doing that," she said, arching an eyebrow at him.

Ryan just rolled his eyes again and pilled on a pair of gloves. He skulked away to about ten feet from the body, muttering sullenly to himself, "'You might want to start doing that.' Yeah, well, shove it…"

He trailed off, instead shooting a murderous look at her back. Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose. He was exhausted. Last night had been yet another sleepless night, punctuated by a lot of tears on his part and sad songs on the radio. All the radio seemed to do was play said songs now.

One song in particular had stuck with him, haunting him all through the day.

"What hurts the most  
Was being so close  
And having so much to say  
And watching you walk away  
And never knowing  
What could've been  
And not seeing that loving you  
Is what I was trying to do"

Ryan closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to stop himself from crying. This had to stop. He missed Greg, he needed Greg, he loved Greg. And there was absolutely nothing in the world that he could do about it. Ryan Wolfe had always had a plan. He had never once just woken up in the morning, not knowing where the day would wake him. At least, not until he met Greg. But even when he was caught up in Greg's whims, Greg Sanders had been his compass. Because it hadn't matter where the day would take Ryan, provided he had Greg with him.

And now Greg was gone. He had taken a plane out of Miami International and out of Ryan's life, for good. And Ryan had no plan, had no idea where he was going in his life. And it was a terrible feeling, this loss and despair.

Opening his eyes again, he focused on the task at hand. Standing, he kicked at a stray piece of trash and sighed. "Ryan," called Calleigh in a sing-song voice. "I've got a sample for you to take back to the lab."

Ryan snapped. "I'm not your lap dog or your gopher, Calleigh," he snarled, whirling to face her. "I know you're pissed at me, but you can take your own goddamn sample back to the lab."

Calleigh's eyes lit with fury. "You aren't my gopher, Ryan, you're right," she snapped, voice colder than he had ever heard it. "But I am still the senior officer on this case, and you'll take this sample back to the lab as asked."

"Fine," shot Ryan back at her, snatching the bag from her hand. "I'll do as you command, Calleigh." He looked at her. "Just know that I miss Greg as much as you do, probably more, and I would give everything I possess to have him back here."

He turned and strode back to his car, blood humming in his ears. Pausing for a second, he turned and asked in a falsely polite voice, "Anything else I can do for you, my lady?"

Nodding once, curtly, Calleigh gestured to the evidence bags next to her. "These are samples from the body. Some biological. Would you please take them to Valera for me."

He nodded as well and gathered them up, taking them with him to his car. He started the engine and pulled away from the scene. He had a long day ahead of him.

**CSI:MIAMICSI:MIAMICSI:MIAMICSI:MIAMICSI:MAIMICSI:MIAMICSI:MIAMICSI:MIAMI**

Ryan rested his head on arms for just a moment as he tried to block out the sound of mass-spec behind him. He heard clicking heels on the tile and knew that it was Calleigh, coming to check up on his. Groaning softly, he raised his head and blinked at her. "Yeah, Calleigh, what is it?"

She looked furious. Slamming a folder down on the table, she asked, "Do you know what you did?"

"No, Calleigh, what did I do?" he asked wearily.

She opened the folder and showed him the piece of paper inside. "Does this look familiar to you at all? Obviously not, since you didn't fill it out!" She looked at him, shaking her head. "Ryan, you broke the chain of custody! You didn't document any of the things I gave you at the scene! Now, if we even ever get a witness with the evidence we have left, we have nothing to tie him to the scene of the crime!"

"What?" said Ryan, pulling the file folder over to him and staring at it, wide-eyed. "Calleigh, I swear, I just forgot. I thought—"

She just shook her head, angry tears glinting in her eyes. "No, Ryan, you didn't think. All of our evidence is inadmissible. Thanks to you, a murderer will never see time." She swallowed hard and added hollowly, "Oh, and I forgot to mention, IAB wants to suspend me."

Ryan's brow furrowed. "Suspend you? Why? I'm the one who screwed up!"

"But I'm your senior officer, and I'm the one in charge of the case."

Ryan shook his head firmly. "No, that's not fair. Calleigh…" He paused. "Look, I know I can't make this right, but I'm going to go see H. The least they can do is suspend me instead of you."

He practically flew from the lab, on the lookout for Horatio. When he finally spotted him, he stopped in front of him. "Horatio, you can't suspend Calleigh," he said, breathing heavily. "Look, suspend me, do whatever. I screwed up, big time, and I'm the one who should take the fall."

"Yes, Mr. Wolfe, you did screw up," said Horatio, looking seriously at him. "And this is not the first time."

"H—" started Ryan, but Horatio cut him off.

"Mr. Wolfe, I think it would be a good idea if you headed home and laid low for awhile."

Ryan frowned and cocked his head quizzically. "But IAB—"

"I will take care of IAB." Horatio pulled his sunglasses out and put them on. "Oh, and Mr. Wolfe? Don't screw up like this again."

* * *

Grissom sat in his office, the delicate strains of Bach floating through the air behind him. He closed his eyes and leaned back. No new cases tonight, thank God. Nick and Sara were on a B+E in Henderson, and Warrick and Catherine were working on a cold case. And Greg…well, Greg wasn't working on anything at the moment, because he had once again neglected to show up for work. 

Sighing, Grissom leaned forward, resting his head on his hands thoughtfully. After their little confrontation at Greg's apartment, Greg had been to work everyday on time. But he had been…subdued. Out of it. In fact, others had remarked on Greg's quietness. Just the other day, Ecklie had asked if Greg was alright. Grissom wished he knew the answer to that.

A knock sounded on Grissom's door, and he looked up, half-hoping to see Greg standing there, wearing that silly smirk of his. Instead, it was Judy, the receptionist, looking nervous. "Um, Mr. Grissom, can I have a word?"

"Sure, Judy, go ahead," said Grissom, massaging his temples. "What's going on?"

Judy stepped into the office and looked around as if she was afraid someone was listening. "It's Greg, sir. He…he came into work late, but I'm sure you knew that."

Grissom folded his hands on his desk and nodded. "Yes, I did know that, but this isn't what you wanted to talk to me about, is it?"

"No," said Judy, shaking her head slowly. "It's just…I was passing the locker room when I saw him take some pills. I know the company policy on drug use as well as the next person, so I was just letting you, as his supervisor, know."

Closing his eyes briefly, Grissom forced a smile onto his face. "Thank you, Judy, I will certainly look into this."

She nodded and left. Grissom groaned aloud. Another strike against the ex-lab tech. This was the last thing Greg needed…the last thing Grissom needed, too. Sighing, Grissom stood and strode out of his office, ready to confront the wayward CSI. He found him in DNA, working diligently on some samples. Grissom leaned against the door, watching him. "Greg," he said calmly.

Greg looked up. "Oh, hey, Griss. Wendy asked if I could help with this backlog, and since there aren't any new cases, I figured…"

"That's fine, Greg," said Grissom, kneading his forehead in consternation. He looked up, blue eyes studying the younger man. "Look, there is no easy way to do this, so I'll cut to the chase. Judy saw you take some pills. Are you on drugs, Greg?"

Grissom expected Greg to get defensive, to explode. What he didn't expect was the calm submission that Greg showed, the emotionless explanation he offered. "Vicodin. For my back. It's hurting again." Turning back to the samples, he added, "And it's procured legally with a prescription. And I informed Ecklie about it."

"I thought you were supposed to inform your supervisor," interjected Grissom.

Greg avoided looking at him as he filled a pipet. "Yeah, well, I kinda wanted to avoid this conversation, so I figured I'd go above your head." He set his things down and turned back to Grissom. "Was there anything else you wanted?"

Grissom frowned deeply. "No, Greg, but I don't believe we're quite done with this conversation. Your back doesn't hurt, and you and I both know that. You haven't complained about back pains for over three years now." Pausing, he added softly, "Greg, no amount of Vicodin will heal a broken heart."

Closing his eyes, Greg, nodded slowly. "I know that. Believe me, Grissom, I know that. But it makes it go away for awhile. And that's all I need. That's what lets me do my job."

"Greg, I can give you some time off if—"

Greg shook his head quickly. "That's not what I meant." He swallowed, hard. "I would just rather feel nothing than this hollow pain inside, you know?"

Grissom reached out, slowly, and touched his shoulder. "Greg, this has to stop. Drinking, drugs…Greg, you're a mess."

"Hell, Grissom, you think I don't know that?" snapped Greg, shrugging Grissom's hand off him. "But it's better than the alternative, which is crying my eyes out every night."

Frowning even deeper, Grissom set his jaw resolutely. "Regardless, Greg, as your supervisor, I am putting you on leave until further notice, for mandatory detox. And I will be taking time off as well, to make sure you stay off."

Greg's eyes burned with fury. "Fine, Grissom. You do that. See if I care. But we're not staying in this fucking town. We're not, or I won't be able to stand it."

"Fine," agreed Grissom. "We'll go to neutral territory. We'll go to Chicago."

Greg's eyes filled with tears, briefly, then hardened. "Fine, whatever."

It was that apathy that killed Grissom to hear. Greg used to have so much passion, not just for work, but for life. Now he was…diminished, almost. "Very well. Oh, and Greg? I'll take those pills now."

Greg's hand flew to his pocket, and his face took on a desperate look. "Grissom—"

"No, Greg. No buts about this. Give me the pills." Greg pulled them out and handed them over reluctantly. "There. Was that so bad?" asked Grissom lightly. "You can finish out tonight, but then you're off, understood?"

"Yes, sir," muttered Greg softly, turning back to the table, eyes downcast.

Grissom nodded once, and headed out the door. Greg might not have known it, but the first step to healing had been taken. And Grissom had a pretty good idea what the second one was going to be…

* * *

Horatio closed the file folder on his desk and looked at his watch. It was late. He was about to leave when his cellphone went off. He picked it up after the second ring. ""Caine." 

"Horatio," said Grissom's voice, sounding strained and tired. "How're things with you at your end?"

"Not well, Mr. Grissom, not well," answered Horatio, rubbing his temples. "We all miss Greg here."

Grissom laughed dryly. "If it's any consolation, he misses you as well." He paused and sighed deeply. "He's a mess, Horatio. Binge drinking, popping pain pills…I'm really worried. And I don't know how to help him."

"I see," said Horatio, frowning. "Mr. Grissom, I assume you know what happened?"

"The gist of it," said Grissom. "Ryan broke his heart, so he moved back here to be a CSI again. Only he hasn't been a good CSI lately."

"No, neither had Mr. Wolfe," said Horatio thoughtfully. "He misses Greg. We all do. In fact, I just got clearance from the department to hire Mr. Sanders as a CSI level 2."

"Level 2?" said Grissom, surprised. "But he hasn't even made CSI 2 here, yet. That's quite a promotion."

"Yes, well, Mr. Sanders is quite a CSI," said Horatio, smiling. "I vouched for him for the department."

"And I'd vouch for him, too," affirmed Grissom. "Greg's amazing at DNA—I've never met anyone better—but his heart's in the field." He sighed again. "Ok, so he obviously loves Ryan and vice versa, so why doesn't he just apologize and get back together with him?"

"Mr. Grissom," said Horatio chidingly. "You know Greg as well as I do, and what is he?"

"Stubborn," answered Grissom with a sigh.

"Exactly. It took intervention last time to get him down here, Mr. Grissom, and it will take our intervention again."

Grissom paused, then said, "I have a plan. I told Greg I was going to take him to Chicago for some mandatory detox. Can you bring Ryan there, too? We could arrange to 'accidentally' bump into each other."

"In Chicago, where they first fell in love," said Horatio, smiling. "You know something, Mr. Grissom? It just might work."

"It has to, Horatio," said Grissom sadly. "It has to or we may lose Greg forever."


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: **Chapter 2! Yay! And before my deadline! Woohoo. Well, there's not too much to say about this one...ITALICS indicates a flashback, as it will in all the other chapters. In this chapter, all flashbacks flash back to "Why Can't I?". Other than that, usual disclaimer applies. Please read and review!  
_

Chapter Two  


"_Thirty miles outside Chicago  
Kids know what's really going on  
Still this  
Gravel highway makes a statement  
We're another town gone wrong"_

Ryan grabbed another sweater out of his closet and tossed it into his suitcase. A small smile touched his face; he'd actually need the sweater this time, since it was winter in Chicago. The smile turned into a saddened frown as he remembered what Greg had said about his sweaters.

_Greg struck a pose, wearing Ryan's hideous sweater, and Ryan laughed out loud. "God knows you may need those other sweaters in the middle of September," said Greg, eyes twinkling._

_Ryan narrowed his eyes. "Hey, you're cold, aren't you? Besides, I figure better safe than sorry. I'm from Miami, so I have no idea what Chicago weather is like."_

_Greg nodded understandingly. "I feel your pain. I'm from Vegas, so at this time of year, the word 'cold' is not in vocabulary." He gave Ryan a slow grin. "We're both a long way from home, huh?" _

That had been when they had both met, in Chicago, for the first time. Ryan's frowned deepened. He didn't want to think about Greg right now. Instead, he worked on zipping his overflowing suitcase.

The doorbell startled him, and he looked up. He walked over and opened the door, eyes widening in surprise when he saw who it was. "Calleigh?"

"Hi, Ryan," she said softly, avoiding his eyes. "Can I come in?"

Brow wrinkled in confusion, Ryan nodded once, and stepped back, allowing her in. He followed her into the living room. "Um, I hope I don't seem rude, but what are you doing here, Calleigh?"

She sat down on the couch and looked at him solemnly. "I came to apologize," she said calmly. "H came and told me that you two were jetting out of the state for a couple of days and I figured now would be best, before you leave."

Ryan sat down as well, literally dumbstruck. He stared at her. "You came to apologize? For what?"

Looking down at her hands, she answered softly, "For how I treated you. It wasn't terribly nice of me, and I realize that now. I realize how hurt you are, and I just made things worse with the way I acted."

He looked at her closely, then sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. "I don't…I don't blame you," he said softly, eyes sad. "After the way I treated Greg…I'm sure to you guys it seemed like it was definitely my fault."

Calleigh smiled gently. "Yeah, it kinda did. What we saw in the lab, all your arguing…we saw it from Greg's point of view more than yours, and from his point of view, well…" She trailed off, and Ryan nodded.

"I understand," he said dully. "I was a jerk, and you had every right to treat me as such."

Her smile turned to a frown, and she looked at him concernedly. "Ryan, even if you were a jerk to Greg, you know the old saying, 'It takes two to tango.' Greg's not completely innocent, nor are you completely guilty. You're both at fault, and therefore, you both need to forgive each other and move on."

Ryan's eyes met hers, and his anguish was visible. "But you didn't see his face, Cal. You didn't see it. He could never forgive me, not after some of the things I said and did."

"Just give it time," urged Calleigh. "He'll come around eventually."

Ryan looked at her sadly. "How can you be so sure?"

She smiled sadly at him. "Because I just am," she said calmly, but there was a conviction in her voice that Ryan wished he felt. "Because it has to turn out that way. Because you two are meant to be together."

His eyes searched hers, and he smiled wistfully. "I wish," he said quietly. "I really wish that it'll turn out that way, but I just…I just don't know."

He trailed off, staring at the wall, a vacant look in his eyes. Calleigh stood and touched his arm gently. "I have to go to work, Ry, but I just wanted you to know that I am sorry. I don't really blame you for anything that's happened. I know it's not your fault." She paused, then added, "Ryan, I just want you to be happy. And I know that Greg makes you happy. So please…give him a call. Try to make amends."

Ryan looked up at her. "I'll try," he said quietly. "But I'm not promising anything. And besides, I'm going to be in Chicago for the next few days, and it's not like I can do anything there."

She rolled her eyes. "Alright, but when you come back, I expect you to try and win him back, alright?"

He stood as well, and gave her a brief hug. "Alright, Cal. I'll see you when I get home."

Smiling and nodding, she went to the door. She had almost left when she suddenly paused and turned around. "Hey, Ry, why are you going to Chicago anyway? H never told me."

Ryan shrugged. "He was pretty vague on the details. Something about the Chicago PD needing our help with a case. It doesn't really matter, since I'm unofficially suspended."

A brief flash of guilt crossed Calleigh's face, and she grinned sheepishly. "Oh. Yeah. Sorry about blowing up at you over at that."

Ryan waved his hand dismissively. "Don't even try to take the blame for this one, Cal. I fucked that one up all on my own."

She just smiled and gave him another hug. "Bye, Ryan."

"Bye, Calleigh."

As the door closed after her, Ryan frowned and rubbed his forehead. How was he going to get Greg back? And just what did Horatio have up his sleeve?

* * *

"Hello, passengers, this is your captain speaking. Please take your seats at this time for descent. Remember to set your watches back an hour!" 

Ryan groaned and rubbed his eyes. Rolling over in his seat, he looked over at Horatio. "H," he yawned, "we're almost here."

Blinking once, Horatio opened his eyes as well. "Yes, thank you, Mr. Wolfe."

As Horatio sat up, Ryan frowned, looking suspiciously at him. "H," he said cautiously, "we're here to help out the CPD on a case, right?" Without letting Horatio respond, he continued, "Well, don't you think you should probably let me in on what exactly this case is about?"

Horatio fumbled for his sunglasses and put them on. "To be honest, Mr. Wolfe…there is no case. We're not here for anything formal or work related. We're here for a bit of a vacation."

Ryan stared at Horatio, dumbfounded. "We're here for a vacation? Horatio, you don't take vacations. I don't take vacations. The very least you could've done is told me!"

Raising one eyebrow, Horatio asked calmly, "And if I had told you, would you have come?"

Ryan half-smiled. "No."

"There you go," said Horatio, smiling as well. "I knew that I needed to get your mind off this thing with Greg, and there's no way that would've happened back in Miami, so…here we are."

Smiling and shaking his head slowly, Ryan closed his eyes and lay his head back against the headrest. "Here we are indeed."

* * *

Once the plane came to a stop and the passengers had finally all disembarked, Horatio and Ryan made their way to the baggage claim. Ryan spotted his bag and grabbed it off the carousel. "Oof," he groaned, setting it down heavily on the ground.

"What exactly do you have in there, Mr. Wolfe?" asked Horatio with a smile. "A few bricks?"

Ryan rolled his eyes. "Haven't you ever heard the expression…be…prepared," he grunted, picking it up and turning around. He ran smack into someone and fell to the ground, his suitcase's contents spilling around him.

"Oh my God, I am so sorry," said the man, bending to help Ryan.

"No, it's my fault, I wasn't looking where I was going, and…" Ryan trailed off and looked up, something clenching in his heart. "Greg?" he whispered.

_The extremely hot blond man grinned at Ryan and stuck out his hand. "Greg Sanders," he said, his brown eyes glowing._

The man Ryan had just run into looked at him quizzically and handed him some of his clothes. "Um, I beg your pardon?"

Ryan shook his head, face falling. "Er, nothing. Never mind. I thought you were someone…someone I knew once. Sorry," he muttered.

He threw all his clothes back into the suitcase and closed it. Standing, he looked over at Horatio, an unfathomable sadness in his eyes. "If this trip was supposed to take my mind of Greg," he stated, calmly and devoid of emotion, "then you're going to have to work a hell of a lot harder."


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: **Wait, there's another chapter up? It must be the apocalypse!! No, actually, it's just me actually getting my act together for once. Um...not too much to say about this one. The hotel in this chapter is modeled after the Embassy Suites in Chicago...I love that hotel. Usual disclaimer applies; I don't own 'em, though I wish I did. Thanks for all the reviews so far! Keep 'em coming!_

Chapter 3

_"Moving out and moving on  
You used to look like me  
Moving out and moving on  
Forever"_

Ryan looked out the window of the taxi that he and H were taking to their hotel. He tried not to look at the meter, tried not to notice the number that only got more and more. He knew that Horatio was footing most of this trip to Chicago, and Ryan knew that if he didn't know how much it cost, he couldn't feel as guilty. In theory, at least. Of course, in reality, a little seed of guilt had already wriggled its way into his stomach and was currently putting up a house. With a swimming pool and porch included.

Sighing heavily, Ryan tilted his face up, basking in the pale March sun. It was so different from Miami, where the sun was always bright and warm. So different even from Boston, where Ryan had spent a good chunk of his life. And though Ryan loved Miami, there was a part of his heart that would always belong to Chicago. After all, the biggest changes in Ryan's life had happened here.

He had fallen in love like he never had before. He had never fallen head-over-heels like he had for Greg. And it has brought out some good changes in his personality, making him a little less anal, and a little more impulsive than he had been.

Ryan frowned. Not all the changes had been good. This city had apparently awoken a jealous streak in him that he hadn't even know existed. And he didn't like it. He didn't like this person he had become.

And yes, in some regards, Greg had driven Ryan to become like this. But Ryan knew that it was easier for him to cast Greg's image as perfect than to try and bring him down, that it was much easier to place all the blame on himself. Trying to blame Greg seemed like defacing the memory of someone who was beautiful and loving and…perfect.

But Greg hadn't been perfect. That knowledge edged its way into Ryan's conscious and Ryan's guilt as well. He missed Greg with every molecule he had, but the reality of the situation that had happened refused to not lay blame equally on both of them. Ryan had screwed up, yes, but hadn't Greg equally with his actions?

Ryan sighed and closed his eyes. This was his problem; all these feelings were jumbled up inside of him so that he could hardly tell what was reality and what had been falsified by his own mind and his own guilt. Leaning his head against the cold car window, he sighed again and mouthed, "I just want him back."

"Mr. Wolfe." Horatio's voice interrupted Ryan's pity party.

Ryan turned away from the window and back to Horatio, rubbing his forehead. "Yeah, H, what's up?"

Smiling at him with a gentle grin that seemed so knowing, as if Horatio knew exactly what Ran was feeling, he gestured out the window. "Tell me about Chicago. What should I know about this city?"

Ryan straightened, reverting instantly into tour-guide mode. "Well, the city started as the transportation hub of the Midwest, with various railroads beginning and ending here. It was also the main slaughter district for cows, who came up all the way from Santa Fe on the cattle trails…"

As they drove through the crowded city streets, Ryan rambled on, warming to each topic as they went. Though he knew that he sounded as if he had swallowed a guide book, it gave him something to talk about, which was better than the uncomfortable silence. And Horatio seemed to be interested enough, nodding and asking questions.

And it also took Ryan's mind off things as they passed by familiar sights, sights that caused a sickening wallop of something to ball in his stomach. Every one of those buildings had memories associated with it, simple glances, kisses, touches that Greg and Ryan had shared in front of the windows or against the walls. These giant, silent skyscrapers had been witnessed to some of the best moments and Ryan's lives, but the ghosts of these memories still haunted Ryan with their presence.

The taxi screeched to a halt outside the hotel where H and Ryan were staying, and Ryan stopped talking, clamping his mouth shut so quickly that H turned and gave him a look. "We're here," said the cabby.

While H paid the taxi driver, Ryan got out of the cab and stood, stretching, breathing deeply of the Chicago air. The wind was coming in off the lake, causing a cold breeze that made Ryan shiver, even under his wooly sweater. He turned to the trunk and pulled their suitcases out, setting down one at a time on the ground. H came around the side of the taxi, and Ryan avoided looking at him, trying to ignore the guilt that was rising in his throat. "Let's go, shall we?" said Horatio lightly, picking up his suitcase and leading the way into the downstairs lobby.

From there, Horatio and Ryan had to take an elevator up to the real lobby. As they stepped out from the elevator doors, Ryan inhaled sharply. The hotel lobby was excellent, open and with an air of freshness. Horatio headed over to the desk and Ryan took a look around, scoping out the people in the place. He couldn't help it; as a cop and then as a criminalist, he had been trained to observe people.

There was a man, in a chair near the bar, who was watching him. He was watching Ryan carefully, so as to not appear as if he was watching Ryan, but Ryan knew he was anyway. Frowning, Ryan casually looked over at him. The man was not quite old, probably in his forties or fifties. He had blue eyes and bifocals, and there was an air about him, as if Ryan should know who he was, though he did not.

Then another man joined him, and Ryan felt his heart stop. It couldn't be… The other man vaguely looked in his direction, and Ryan almost fell over. It was. "Greg," he whispered hoarsely, wanting to shout but somehow unable to. "Greg."

Greg looked at him, eyes widening in recognition. "Ryan…?"

Ryan could barely feel himself cross the floor over to where Greg stood. He knew somewhere in his mind that this was really happening, but at the moment, he couldn't seem to convince himself of it. "Greg," he said softly, stopping in front of him. "It's…it's good to see you."

And it was good to see him. But Greg himself didn't look so good. Dark circles ringed his eyes, and he was shivering, even though it wasn't cold. Worst of all was the dead look in his dark eyes. "Hi, Ryan," he said, equally as quiet, but there was no joy in his simple words, not like the joy that Ryan felt at seeing him.

The man next to Greg stood up and extended his hand to Ryan. "Ryan Wolfe, I presume? I'm Gil Grissom."

Ryan shook his hand slowly. "Mr. Grissom. Greg talked so much about you."

"Good things, I hope," laughed Grissom, and he shot Greg a look. But Greg ignored him, instead staring at the ground. Ryan frowned deeply, worry showing on his face.

Horatio strolled up and shook Grissom's hand. "Mr. Grissom, always a pleasure."

"Horatio," said Grissom warmly. "I'm glad you finally got here alright."

Ryan stood in between them and raised an eyebrow at Horatio. "So, H, fancy meeting Grissom and Greg here, huh? And how do you know Grissom, anyway?"

While Grissom and Horatio exchanged uneasy glances, Greg raised his head and glared at Grissom. "Was this a set-up, Griss? Did you and H put your heads together and come up with some fail-proof and pretty plan to get me and Ryan get back together? Well, guess what? It ain't gonna happen."

With that said, he turned and stalked toward the elevator, anger radiating from his tense figure. "Greg, where are you going?" called Ryan concernedly.

"Away from here and away from you," snapped Greg.

Ryan went after him, grabbing his arm to stop him from leaving. "Greg, what's going on?" he asked softly, eyes searching his. "Can't we talk, please? I haven't seen you in awhile."

Turning back to him, Greg just shook his head, his dark eyes wet with tears. "Ryan, I can't…I'm not ready to talk. I'm not ready to face you…or myself, yet." He pulled his arm away from Ryan and walked over to the elevator, his face impassive,

Ryan went back to Grissom and Horatio, frowning deeply, worry reflected in his eyes. "Mr. Grissom, what the hell is going on with Greg?" he asked quietly, but there was an anger to what he said. "That is not the same Greg I used to know."

"It's not the same Greg any of us used to know," said Grissom wearily, rubbing his forehead. "Greg changed when he came back to Las Vegas. He's…he's not in a good place right now, Ryan. And I don't think that we should leave him alone right now."

Shrugging helplessly, Ryan looked from Grissom to Horatio. "What do you want me to do? Greg left, and he doesn't want me to find him. Besides, there's a million and half places where he could be."

"Well, then, Mr. Wolfe," said Horatio, pulling out his sunglasses and putting them on. "We'll just have to look in all of them, won't we?"

* * *

_**A/N(pt. 2):** Coming up next chapter: The search for Greg begins...both in Chicago, and in Ryan's memories..._


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N:** So get this...TWO updates in ONE month. I know, I know...I'm amazing. Feel free to tell me how amazing I am. Only joking, of course. Anyway, to serious business. Flashbacks in this chapter are, once again, denoted by italics, and are all flashbacks to "Why Can't I?". Usual disclaimer applies...thanks in advance for reading!_

Chapter 4

_"And this autumn air reminds  
How things all slowly unwind  
Changing times have been unkind  
To you  
As these days they slip away  
We grow closer to our graves  
Had the best time of my life  
Without you"_

"Hey, this is Greg, I can't pick up my phone right now, so leave me a message after the beep and I'll get back to you."

Grissom sighed and closed his cell phone. "Still no answer, on Greg's cell," he reported, looking over at Horatio.

Sighing as well, Horatio turned to Ryan. "Ok, Mr. Wolfe, I just want you think. Where might Greg have gone?"

Ryan was slumped in a chair, head cradled in his hands. "I don't know," he said softly, miserably. "I just don't know."

"Just think, Mr. Wolfe," urged Horatio. "You know this town better than Mr. Grissom and I, and you have to have some idea of the general direction in which he might've headed."

Sitting up straight, Ryan snapped, "I said I don't, H. What more do you want me to do? He took off and God only know where the hell he might've gone."

Grissom stood, frustrated. "While you two bicker over might know where Greg is, I'm going to go try and find him," he said loudly, an angry bite to his words.

Horatio and Ryan fell silent, both looking slightly taken aback. H reacted first, nodding in agreement. "Mr. Grissom's right. The more we sit and talk, the farther Greg gets from us."

"But where do we even start?" asked Ryan softly. "Chicago's a big city, and Greg could be anywhere." He paused and gave Horatio a look. "And for the umpteenth time, I have no idea where he could be."

Frowning, Grissom said slowly, "Let's start with the places that you and Greg visited, since he'll have the most memory of those."

Ryan also frowned contemplatively. "Well, the first place we went was the Sears Tower."

"Then let's go," said Grissom impatiently, moving towards the door.

Ryan looked over at Horatio. "H," he said slowly, "can I trust Grissom? He seems…" He trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

Horatio looked at Grissom's retreating back thoughtfully. "You can trust Gil Grissom as much as you can trust me. He is as loyal to his CSIs as I am to mine." He paused and looked back at Ryan. "He's a good man, Ryan, and he loves Greg like a son. You can trust him."

Looking back at Grissom, Ryan nodded once, quickly. "Alright then," he said. "Let's go."

* * *

A gray, cloudy pall hung heavily in the sky, veiling the pinnacle of the tower. Ryan shivered and pulled his heavy jacket closer around him. There was no line in front of the building, and Ryan frowned. The last time he had been here, the line had wrapped around the building. Looking up, he closed his eyes, remembering what it had felt like to stand that high, looking down.

"_Hey, do you have a quarter?" asked Greg._

_Ryan rolled his eyes and pulled out a quarter. "You know, I never understood why someone would go up a hundred floors just to look at the ground."_

_Greg took the quarter and stuck hi tongue out at Ryan. "It's a hundred and ten floors, actually. And I want to do it because it's tradition. Everyone does it." He put the quarter in the machine and looked out at Lake Michigan. "Oo, look at the boats!"_

Ryan felt a smile grow involuntarily across his face. Greg had seemed like such a little kid then. He opened his eyes to see a harried-looking doorman stride towards them. "Sirs, I'm very sorry, but the skydeck is closed today. You'll have to come back another time."

A hot bubble of disappointment grew in Ryan's stomach as he nodded dully. He had so hoped that Greg was here, that their search would be short-lived. Instead, he reached out automatically to take the brochure the doorman offered him.

He looked down at the brochure, his eyes widening in shock. There he was, he and Greg, staring back at him.

"_Aw, what a cute couple!" interrupted a cheerful-looking lady. She brandished her camera. "Do you mind if I take a picture for a local paper? We're doing an article about tourism at the Sears Tower."_

"_Not at all, ma'am," said Ryan politely, but inside he was seething at this woman for ruining the moment. With Greg's arm still around his shoulders, and his own arm wrapped around Greg's waist, the two stood together, facing the lady. Ryan took a deep breath and then relaxed, leaning into Greg and resting his head on Greg's shoulder. Greg grinned and laid his cheek against Ryan's head._

"Where…" croaked Ryan, his eyes still focused on the picture. "Where did you get this picture?"

The doorman's brow wrinkled in confusion. "I don't know, sir," he said politely. "You'd have to ask someone higher up than me."

As the doorman withdrew back to his post, Grissom took the brochure from Ryan's shaking hands and looked down at it, expression unreadable. Horatio looked at Ryan. "All right, Mr. Wolfe," he said calmly and gently. "We've one place that Greg wasn't at. Where's our next stop?"

Ryan just stared dumbly at him, his mind blank. Grissom stepped forward. "The next stop, Ryan," he said.

There was something about Grissom's tone that snapped Ryan out of his stupor and he nodded once, jerkily. "Lincoln Park Zoo," he said, eyes bright. "That was Greg and my next stop, and it'll be our next, too."

* * *

But Greg was not at the zoo, and it was with mountingly heavy hearts that Ryan, Grissom and Horatio made their way to Navy Pier. The sky was getting darker and the wind off the lake grew chillier with each step.

Ryan stood in front of the now dormant fountain, his eyes as grave as the stone around him. Tourists passed on either side of him, but he was oblivious to them, remembering another time.

_Greg grinned and pulled Ryan over to the fountain. "Here, wait for a second." Leaving Ryan for a brief second, he dragged a hapless bystander over, fishing in his pocket and pulling out a disposable camera. "This guy's going to take our picture!" he told Ryan excitedly. _

"_Is this really necessary?" groaned Ryan as he followed Greg reluctantly._

"_Yes. Yes it is," said Greg firmly, turning to Ryan and wrapping his arms around his waist possessively. _

_Ryan groaned again, but he put his arms around Greg's neck, leaning into his embrace, Leaning forward so their noses were just touching, Greg asked with a smirk, "Whaddya think they'll call this, Brokeback CSI?"_

Once again, an involuntary smile touched Ryan's mouth as he gazed into space, but it quickly hardened. He turned to Horatio and Grissom. "Let's go," he said quietly. "He is not here."

"How do you know?" asked Grissom, just as softly.

Ryan met his eyes. "I just do. This is a place filled with happy memories." He paused and turned back to face the choppy lake waters. "He will not want to stay where the memories are happy."

Horatio shared a quick look with Grissom before asking Ryan hurriedly, "Well, where are there not happy memories?"

"The Michigan Dunes," said Ryan quickly and confidently. "That was where our trouble began."

* * *

The dunes were near abandoned by the time the three arrived, and it was easy to see Greg was not there. Heavy raindrops began splashing against the windshield of the taxi they sat in. The taxi driver drummed his fingers against the steering wheel impatiently. "Can I go back now?" he asked rudely.

"Wait."

Ryan's voice was soft, but commanding as he opened the car door and stepped out into the rain. He did not go far from the taxi, taking only a few steps forward, but his eyes were watching the waves crash into the shore, imagining that he could see a lone figure out there, riding the waves.

_Ryan lay back against the warm sand, watching Greg expertly ride the crest of a wave, doing tricks and all sorts of things. God, he was falling for him so hard…but did Greg feel the same? Or was he just in it for fun?_

_Ryan watched Greg surf, watched his face. He looked so carefree, so independent. And Ryan wondered if he'd ever settle down, ever want to commit. Was he as committed to this relationship as Ryan already was? Jesus, and here he was thinking commitment. This was supposed to be fun, not a life sentence._

_Even as he thought this, Ryan knew that to him, this wasn't just fun. This wasn't just a fling or a quick fuck. This was the real deal._

_He knew he had to tell Greg. Had to tell him how he felt, how he really felt. He just didn't want to scare him away. How do you tell the same person that can't sit still for more than five minutes at one time that you wanted a life-long relationship with him? Ryan knew it would be like caging him, like clipping Greg's wings and sticking him in a cage, and he just knew he couldn't do that to Greg. It would kill everything Greg was, everything he stood for._

_What was the phrase, about how if you love someone, you have to set them free? Ryan took a deep, shaky breath, feeling tears in his eyes. Maybe he had to set Greg free._

Ryan couldn't tell if it was the rain or tears that coursed down his face as he watched the charcoal colored waves. He knew what he had done. He had tried to clip Greg's wings, just as he hadn't wanted to do. But now, now he knew what had to be done to fix this.

Because it could be fixed. He knew that now, too. Their relationship was still founded on the purest of loves, and Ryan would do all in his power to fix it.

* * *

_**A/N (pt. 2):** Coming up next chapter: Memories plague Greg as well, and he seeks to drown them however he can._


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N:** It's been awhile, hasn't it? Sorry about that, but my life was kinda turned upside down this month. Anyway, italics in this chapter are flashbacks to "Take Me or Leave Me". This is the last chapter to use flashbacks like this. Usual disclaimer applies...enjoy._

Chapter 5.

_"It's been months since I've seen Chicago  
Now the buildings are so tall  
I found our initials in the pavement  
Just another dream gone wrong"_

Greg walked slowly down the sidewalk, his sneakers scuffing the ground. His head was bowed and his eyes were downcast and clouded with tears.

His heart was still racing.

God, seeing Ryan like that…it had been intoxicating. Greg had hardly been able to believe what he had seen when he saw Ryan walk in. he had thought he was hallucinating.

But Ryan had really been there, living and breathing, in the flesh. And he had been nice to Greg, and to Grissom, in their brief conversation. And Greg…

Greg had been every ounce of the jerk and jackass that Ryan had called him.

Shivering, Greg pulled his thin track jacket tighter around his thin shoulder. He had to admit that for a brief second, it had been gratifying to see the flash of hurt on Ryan's face. But only for a brief moment, and then it was replaced by terrible, terrible guilt.

He just couldn't face Ryan. Not now. Not like this. He wasn't ready for it. The hurt was still there, fresh and raw. The wounds Ryan had inflicted so viciously last time had not yet healed.

Greg paused on the bridge, leaning on the rail and closing his eyes. Hot tears spilled down his cheeks before falling into the river far below. For a brief second, Greg considered hurling himself in with them. Then he shook his head and rubbed his eyes.

How could he heal when he still felt this way after all this time? He was still afraid of Ryan's volatile temper. He could still remember perfectly the first time Ryan's temper had flared up…

_Greg said slowly, "I wasn't flirting with any of them."_

"_Bullshit!" exclaimed Ryan. "I saw you. How about you and Calleigh in the lab, huh? And you and Cooper giggling like teenage girls over something? And what was with you fingering Delko's shirt like some girl trying to pick him up at a bar?"_

_Jaw clenched, Greg said calmly, but in a dangerous tone, "My working relationship with everyone may be a little lighter than yours, Ryan, but that does not mean that I was flirting with them."_

"_Oh, so I suppose you and Calleigh's impromptu tickling match was only so you could deliver her results, then," said Ryan scathingly._

"_Oh, I'm sorry" exploded Greg. "I didn't realize I was under scrutiny every time I did something today. Just so you know, when I was delivering results to Horatio, our conversation didn't once stray from the case. And when I went down to talk to Alexx, I promise I wasn't trying to get in her pants."_

_Ryan sighed. "Greg, that's not what I meant—" he started, but Greg cut him off._

"_Regardless of whether or not that's what you meant—and that's debatable at the moment—that is sure as hell what you just said," said Greg icily. He turned away and said stiffly, "I'm going out." He turned back and looked at Greg, hurt evident in his eyes. "Just so we're clear, I'm not going to go try and hit on someone."_

Tears had blurred Greg's vision again, and he started walking, head bowed.

The sad part was, their fights had escalated beyond that. That was tame in comparison. Their next blowout had literally come to blows.

_Greg threw up his hands in exasperation. "How many times do I have to tell you? It's not flirting, it's just my personality."_

"_Then change your personality," snarled Ryan._

_Staring at him with his mouth open slightly in shock, Greg asked, voice deceptively calm, "What did you just tell me to do?"_

_Ryan's face burned as he realized what he had said, but he said evenly, "You heard me. If it's in your personality to be flirty, then change your personality."_

_The room went deathly silent. Greg took three strides across the room until he stood practically nose to nose with Ryan. He looked him in the eyes and said softly, "I have two words for you: Fuck You." Then he slapped him across the face._

_...Greg, however, didn't relax. "We're reduced to this if you insist on treating me like a possession," he snarled, poised to strike again._

_Try as he might to control his temper, Ryan failed. "Well, maybe I wouldn't have to treat you like that if you could keep it in your pants."_

_Greg's voice shook as he struggled to keep clam. "I have been nothing but faithful to you," he said quietly, the starkness of the statement emphasizing its sincerity._

"_Ok, sure," spat Ryan sarcastically, rolling his eyes overdramatically._

_Greg snapped. He grabbed Ryan by the shoulders and shoved him into the book shelf directly behind him, oblivious to the books and splintered shelves that clattered down around them. Ryan just stared at him, shock stamped on his face._

Even through the tears, even against the cold, Greg couldn't stop a small smile from spreading over his face. That encounter had led to something much more memorable…but it had also led to Ryan's first attempt to break things off with him.

_Ryan shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Look, it's not like those differences are as simple as you liking apples and me oranges. We want different things. I want to settle down. I want a monogamous relationship that will last the rest of my life."_

"_And I don't?" challenged Greg, raising one eyebrow. "What do think this is then? You think I'm here for laughs or for a quick fuck?" He paused and when he spoke again, his voice was filled with a soft yet earnest passion. "I want this, Ryan. I want the same thing you want. I want monogamy. I came here to settle down with you, to make our life together. Why is this not enough for you?"_

_Shaking his head slowly, Ryan said, "It is enough for me. I'm just not sure if this is what you really want, and I don't want to tie you down."_

"_No, apparently you'd rather just fuck me and send me packing," muttered Greg sarcastically, not looking at Ryan. Finally, he looked back up, tear-filled chocolate eyes steeled with a resolution he didn't want to have. "Fine. Fine, I'll go. I'll pack my stuff and I'll be gone by tonight, if that's what you want." Pausing again, he gave Ryan a sharp, piercingly searching gaze. "You know something? I don't think that's what you want. I think you just don't know how to solve this, and that bothers you." Greg pointed at Ryan for emphasis. "You aren't in control of this, and you can't stand not being in control." _

"_That's not true," snapped Ryan angrily. "We've tried working this out, and neither of us are in control of this anymore. It hasn't worked in that past and no one can control this now." He paused before adding bitterly, "I'm tired of trying."_

Luckily, Greg had fought for their relationship with ever ounce he had. He had fought to keep Ryan, and Ryan had eventually agreed. Though Greg could joke that it was his charming smile and masculine wiles that had held their relationship together, he knew that it was more because their relationship really was based on the truest of loves.

And it could've lasted forever, if only other things didn't interfere. Like at work, when Ryan and Greg had disagreed about which suspect was more likely to have committed a murder.

_Horatio stepped into the room, frowning at the pair of them. "Mr. Sanders, Mr. Wolfe, you two need to control your tempers."_

_But Ryan was beyond controlling his temper. "Really, Greg? Calling me anal-retentive? Was that the best you can do?"_

"_Oh, I could go on," growled Greg. "I just don't want to say something I regret." "Oh, I think we're quite beyond that," snapped Ryan._

_Now it was Calleigh's turn to intervene. "Greg, Ryan, you guys are being ridiculous."_

"_You know what?" snarled Ryan, ignoring Calleigh. "At least I'm not on the side of some slut. But you know why you're on the side of the slut? Because sluts stick together, Greg, that's why. And sluts will always be sluts no matter what."_

_The silence was resounding. Calleigh gasped loudly, her hand flying to her mouth. Greg just stared at Ryan. "That's it," he whispered..._

"_That's it," repeated Greg softly, his eyes darkening as he stared at Ryan. Taking a deep breath, he exhaled slowly. "Ok, Ryan, you want to go at it with me, here and now? Fine." He opened his arms, inviting him. "Take your best shot."_

_Ryan just looked at him, confusion on his face, before shaking his head and turning back to the screen. "I don't know what you're talking about. Let's just get back to the case."_

"_Fuck the case!" shouted Greg, grabbing Ryan's shoulder and turning him around to face him._

_Calleigh gasped again and Horatio said warningly, "Mr. Sanders—"_

"_This isn't about the case," continued Greg in quieter tones. "This is about you and me and nothing else." He paused, shaking his head.__"You called me a slut," he whispered, voice filled with hurt and chocolate eyes filled with tears._

_Shifting uncomfortably, Ryan retorted, "Yeah, well, you called me anal. We're even. Now can we please get back to work?"_

"_Take it back." Greg's voice was calm as he delivered this ultimatum, too calm, deceptively and dangerously calm._

_Ryan pinched the bridge of his nose and winced. "Jesus, Greg, what are we? Back in the second grade? I'm rubber, you're glue and all that shit?"_

_Greg's face was still impassive, but a muscle twitched in his jaw. "Take it back or I walk."_

_Leaning against the table, Ryan chuckled humorlessly and rolled his eyes yet again. "My God, Greg, I can't even believe we're having this conversation. This is so banal."_

_Swallowing hard, Greg said with considerable effort, "I'll give you one more chance before I walk out those doors, and I won't come back."_

_Eyes flashing, Ryan snapped, "You want to play children's games? Fine. I'll take it back when you take back calling me an anal-retentive control freak!"_

_For a second, no one moved, then Greg nodded jerkily. "Fine," he whispered through clenched teeth, eyes full of tears. "Fine, if that's the way you want it, so be it."_

But even after all that, even after Ryan had mutilated and smashed his heart so many times, Greg still went back to him. When Ryan came back to the apartment and tried to get Greg to stay, Greg had stayed. And for once, just for one moment, Greg had allowed himself to hope that Ryan really could change, that their life in Miami was just about to start and be better and happier than ever.

And he wondered now if it could've been. He tried to believe that it would've been everything he had always wanted.

But then there was Mikey. Mikey, who somehow managed to fuck everything up permanently.

"_It's just a shame, that's all," said Mike, shaking his head. "The Greg Sanders I used to know wanted as many girls as he could get, and here he is, getting all domestic with a guy."_

"_Look," said Greg, beginning to get irritated. "This is how I want my life. And nothing you can say will change that."_

_Mike just grinned. "No, but maybe there's something I can do to change that."_

_He leaned in and kissed Greg, hard, just as Ryan walked in. Ryan stopped dead in his tracks. "Greg," he whispered, eyes blurring with tears._

_Greg jumped away from Mike. "Ryan, look, it's not—" he started desperately, coming over to Ryan, but Ryan just backed away, eyes wide in hurt and horror._

"_You said you weren't cheating on me and I believed you," said Ryan hollowly, the tears beginning to stream down his face as his anger grew. "I believed you!"_

"_Ryan," said Greg, softly, "Ryan, I swear to you, it is not what it looks like. I have never cheated on you, and I would never. Ryan, I love you!"_

_Ryan smiled bitterly and closed his eyes. "Bullshit," he said softly, then stronger, "Bullshit." He opened his eyes and stared at Greg, a cold fury settling over his face. "I stand with what I said at work. You are nothing more than a slut. Now pack up your clothes, pack up your shit, and get the hell out of my house, and get the hell out of Miami. Now."_

_Greg stared at him, mind racing through a thousand different ways to try and make this right and coming up empty. "Fine," he said quietly, swallowing hard. "Fine, I'm leaving, but I'm warning you, Ryan, this time I will not come back."_

"_Good," said Ryan coolly, and it was like a slap to Greg. "I don't want you here anymore."_

_Nodding curtly, Greg walked numbly into the bedroom and closed his suitcases. He slid his clothes back on from where they had fallen on the floor, and he walked back into the living room, crossing to the door. He looked back at Ryan, eyes swimming with a hundred different emotions. "I will still love you, Ryan," he whispered. "Forever."_

The tears flooded from Greg's eyes, causing the hazy buildings around him to blur. Suddenly, he stopped walking and looked around. He had no idea where he was.

He headed for the nearest building, a dirty-looking bar. Opening the door, he was met with music from an old jukebox in the corner. A barmaid was wiping down a glass, and she looked up as he entered. "Um, hi," said Greg, wiping his eyes quickly. "Uh, I seem to be lost. Can you help me?"

The girl smiled widely, bending over to put the glass away, giving Greg an ample view down her low-cut shirt. "I may be help you with something, stud. In more ways than one."

Against his better instincts, Greg crossed the room and sat down at the bar. "Um, well, I guess I could have a drink before I go."

She smiled sweetly at him. "You look like you might need it." Pulling a glass out from under the bar, she asked, "What's your poison?"

"Better question," said Greg, leaning forward. "How late are you open tonight?"

Cocking her head quizzically at him, she asked, "Why?"

Greg rubbed his forehead. "Because I may be here awhile."

* * *

_**A/N (part 2):** Coming up next chapter: What happens when Ryan finally finds Greg?_


	6. Chapter 6

**_A/N: _**_Ah, another chapter in April. Spread the love. This chapter contains no flashbacks (yay!), just good ol'...whatever. Usual disclaimer applies. Enjoy!_

Chapter 6

_"Moving out and moving on  
You used to look like me  
Moving out and moving on  
Forever"_

Ryan sat inside the little Starbuck's, sipping on his now-lukewarm coffee and watching the steady drizzle outside miserably. He, H and Grissom had split up for awhile, hoping to find Greg, but none had had any luck.

Tightening his grip on his coffee cup, Ryan rubbed his forehead. Greg could be anywhere, still. They were no closer to finding him than they had been than they had been two hours ago. H had called in a favor from the local PD, so all the public transit areas were being watched, but still.

His cell phone vibrated on the table and he picked it up, wearily looking down at the display. CALLEIGH flashed across the screen. He opened it. "Hey, Cal."

"Ryan." Calleigh's voice was warm and sunny, and it made his heart ache for the warmth of Miami. "How're things going in Chicago?"

A sadly ironic smile twitched involuntarily at the corners of Ryan's mouth. "Oh, they're going. How're things in Miami?"

Calleigh's smile was obvious as she replied, "They're fine. People are still murdering other people, which keeps me in a job."

Ryan felt his first real smile of the day spread across his face as he asked, "More importantly, how are things with Eric?"

This time, Ryan could practically feel the heat from her blushing over the phone. "Um…Delko's fine, I guess," she said.

"I love how your southern accent gets thicker when you're embarrassed," said Ryan teasingly.

"Yes, well," said Calleigh briskly, changing the subject. "I didn't call simply to chat about Eric."

Ryan raised one eyebrow. "Then why did you call, since I assume it wasn't just to hear my voice?"

Calleigh sounded troubled when she answered. "Greg."

Ryan's heart seemed to stop and he swallowed hard. "What about Greg?" he croaked.

"He called me," said Calleigh simply.

"When?"

Calleigh paused at the abruptness of the question. "Just about ten minutes ago. Why?"

Ryan pinched the bridge of his nose. "No reason. Um…he didn't by chance say where he was, did he?"

When Calleigh replied, the politely inquisitive tone was gone, replaced by hardened concern. "Ryan, what is going on?"

With a sigh, Ryan relayed the day's events to Calleigh, simply and softly, voice tinged with regret. "So that's why I wanted to know where he was," finished Ryan.

Calleigh was silent for a moment, then she said softly, "That explains a lot. When Greg called, he…he didn't sound good. He didn't know who he was talking to at first, and his speech was slurred, and…"

Ryan swore under his breath. "But he didn't say where he was? Nothing? No hint of any kind?"

"Nothing. Just that he was in Chicago."

Sighing again, Ryan closed his eyes, despair beginning to swallow him. Suddenly, he sat upright. "Wait, did Greg call on his cell phone?"

"Yeah, why?" asked Calleigh, confusion evident in her voice.

Ryan could barely contain a smile. "Can I talk to Cooper? Is he still there?"

"Yes, he's still here, but what is this about, Ryan?" asked Calleigh impatiently.

"Well, if Greg still has his cell phone on, and let's someone makes a call to Greg, someone like you…"

"Then the call can be traced," finished Calleigh, a smile in her voice. "Look, I'll talk to Cooper and make the call to Greg. You call H and fill him in. I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

Ryan nodded. "Alright, thanks Calleigh." He closed his phone and opened it again, scrolling through his contacts until he found Horatio's number.

The phone rang once before H picked up. "Mr. Wolfe."

Leaning back in his chair, Ryan let the first tentative waves of relief wash over him. "Hey, H. Look, I just talked to Calleigh..."

* * *

The next fifteen minutes were the worst of Ryan's life. He drank two cups of coffee and stared at his phone, willing it to ring. When it finally did, Ryan didn't think he'd ever been happier to see the name "CALLEIGH" in his life. "Cal, " he said relievedly into the phone. 

It wasn't, however, Calleigh's voice that answered him. "Do you know how many cell towers there are in and around the Chicagoland area?"

Ryan sighed and rubbed his forehead. "No, Cooper, I don't. But I'm sure you could tell me. If it were, you know, imperative to my life."

"Chill, Wolfe. This is your lucky day. Greg stayed on his phone long enough for me to narrow it down to a one block radius."

Ryan's heart leapt, and he stood up, struggling to stay calm as he wrote the cross streets on a napkin. "And do there happen to be any bars in this one block radius?"

Cooper's voice was smug. "Once again, you're in luck. Only one bar, called Mario's. You're welcome."

Even Cooper's smugness couldn't kill the joy rising in Ryan's heart. He strode out the door. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you," he said. "And thank Calleigh for me, too."

He closed the phone and hailed a cab. "I need you to get me here," he said, showing him the address he had jotted on the napkin, "as fast as you can."

The cabby looked lazily at the address. "That'll cost you extra, man," he said slowly, chewing a piece of gum loudly for emphasis.

Ryan pulled his badge out and showed it to the cabby. "Step on it," he said firmly.

"Yes sir," said the cabby, putting the car in gear and squealing away from the curb.

* * *

Mario's was a seedy, nasty-looking joint, made nastier by the darkening sky and the now-pouring rain. Ryan covered his head and ran into the bar. He stood inside and let his eyes adjust to the dim light. A bartender was looking over at him, but he didn't bother looking at her. He only had eyes for Greg, who was slumped on a bar stool, nodding his head in beat to music that no one else could hear. 

As Ryan watched, Greg looked up blearily at the bartender. "How about another beer?" he slurred, leering at her.

She laughed throatily, tossed her hair and leaned over, touching his mouth with one finger. "How about I get you something else, sweetie?"

Ryan waited for the familiar bubble of jealousy to swell in his chest, but instead, he felt something else. Love. Even in this place, even watching Greg make a complete and utter ass of himself, Ryan still loved him. And that was far more important than anything else in Ryan's life.

With this crystal clear certainty, Ryan strode across the room. "Greg," he said softly.

Greg's eyes met his, and a grin stretched over her face. "Ryan," he simpered, reaching for his hand.

Ryan let him take it, letting the wonderous feeling spread over him. Then he headed it off. "C'mon," he said, firmly and gently. "I've come to take you home."

"Home," said Greg softly. His eyes dulled and he pulled his hand away. "What home?"

Pausing, Ryan said quietly, "Well, back to the hotel, at least. And then we can talk from there."

Greg snorted. "Talk," he said bitterly. "All we ever do is talk. I'm tired of chittin and chattin. Besides," he added, grinning at the bartender, "I got me a friend here that I have no intention of leaving."

Ryan smiled at the bartender as well. "Ignore him," he said loudly. "When he's sober, he's gay." When she looked at him blankly, he added, even louder, "He likes men, sweetheart. And unless you're hiding something under that skin-tight skirt, you don't exactly foot the bill."

She gave Greg a disgusted look. "Ew," she said, moving away from him. She looked back at Ryan. "Um, like, who's going to pay for what he drank?" she asked, tossing her hair again.

Rolling his eyes, Ryan pulled out a wad of cash and tossed it down on the bar. "This should cover it." He turned to Greg, his face softening. "Greg? You ready to go?"

Greg frowned at him. "I don't want to go," he said stubbornly. "I don't want to go back with you and talk. I want—"

He broke off suddenly, and Ryan moved closer in concern. "Greg? Are you ok?"

Greg answered by opening his mouth and puking all over Ryan, who stood there, dripping. "Ok, that's it," he said under his breath. "That's it." He gripped Greg by the arms and pulled him upright. "We are going back to the hotel."

This time, Greg didn't answer him at all, mainly because he had passed out. Ryan sighed. Hailing a cab was gonna be a little difficult.

* * *

_**A/N (pt. 2): **I think this is the first chapter that hasn't ended on a dismal note. Granted, circumstances still aren't, you know, good or anything, but they're better. Hope still remains._

_Preview for next chapter: Grissom tells Ryan about Greg's problem. Will Ryan still want to work things out?_


	7. Chapter 7

**_A/N:_**_ Yet another chapter (finally). I've been SUPER busy lately, sorry. Luckily, with graduation/summer coming up, I'll have more time to concentrate. There's probably only two or so more chapters to this fic...so just beware. I'm pretty certain that there will be a sequel, but we'll see. Nothing much to say about this chapter...the one line of italics is a flashback to chapter 4, I think. Usual Disclaimer Applies!!! Keep hoping that Ryan gets his job back...and here we go..._

Chapter 7

"_And this autumn air reminds  
How things all slowly unwind  
Changing times have been unkind  
To you  
As these days they slip away  
We grow closer to our graves  
Had the best time of my life  
Without you"_

Ryan called H on his way back to the hotel, so when the taxi arrived, Horatio and Grissom were waiting to help Ryan get Greg back up to the hotel room. As the car pulled up to the curb, Grissom came and opened the door, carefully pulling Greg out of the car.

Greg managed to stand on his own, though he swayed dangerously. "Grishum," he slurred, blinking blearily. "Shorry for this. I know I promished…"

"It's ok, Greg," said Grissom gently, throwing one of Greg's arms around his shoulder for support. "Right now I think it best if you get upstairs and get some rest."

Greg nodded once, emphatically, then he slumped forward, passing out again. It was only Ryan's quick action as he grabbed Greg's other side that saved Greg from falling over completely.

Grissom looked over at Ryan, sympathy in his eyes. "I have to apologize for Greg—" he started, but Ryan cut him off.

"It's not your fault," he said quietly, eyes watching Greg sadly. He switched his gaze to Grissom. "However, I think there's more to what happened when Greg went back to Vegas than you originally told me."

Horatio held up a hand. "Before we talk about anything, let's get Greg upstairs and in bed. Then we can explain everything."

* * *

Once Greg was safely back up in Grissom and Greg's room, Ryan went back to his room, where Horatio and Grissom were waiting for him. When Ryan entered, Grissom looked up, his eyes drawn and worried. "How is he?" 

"Sleeping," answered Ryan, settling into the armchair and rubbing his forehead tiredly. "As I suspect he will be for a long time." He gave Grissom a piercing look. "Forgive me for being blunt, Mr. Grissom, but what the hell is going on with Greg?"

Sighing heavily, Grissom pinched the bridge of his nose. "When Greg came back to Las Vegas," he began softly, settling into the calm detached tones of an outside observer, "he began some self-destructive behavior. He began binge-drinking. As I'm sure you know, four years ago he was involved in an explosion at the lab. At the time, he was prescribed prescription pain drugs. Upon his return to Vegas, he began taking these drugs again, claiming to be feeling back pains." Grissom sat back in his chair, suddenly looking old. "So I confronted him. He admitted to both the drinking and drug usage in an attempt to dull his emotional heartache. I therefore decided to bring Greg to Chicago for mandatory de-tox, at which time I called Horatio and asked him to bring you."

Silence fell as Ryan digested this news, his brow furrowed. Finally, he cleared his throat. "That answers some questions," he said quietly, eyes dark, "but it leaves even more unanswered. Why did Greg resort to drugs? Why doesn't he get help? Why didn't he just stay in Miami with me…"

He trailed off, staring into space. "This is my fault," he said suddenly, a muscle twitching in his jaw. "My fault. I kicked him out of my apartment back in Miami. If I had let him stay, if we had worked this out, this never would have happened."

"Mr. Wolfe—" started Horatio, at the same moment that Grissom leaned forward in his chair and began, "Ryan—"

They both stopped and looked at each other. Grissom went first. "Ryan, this isn't your fault," he said, softly yet earnestly. "I don't know the whole story of what happened in Miami, but I can tell you that it was not you that put a bottle of booze or pills in his hand. Greg—" He broke off, eyes downcast. "Greg has a problem," he said softly. "And I just wish I had been able to see it sooner."

Ryan suddenly remembered what Horatio had said about Grissom. _"He is as loyal to his CSIs as I am to mine."_ "This isn't your fault either, Mr. Grissom," he said, equally as earnestly. "I don't think any of us saw this coming." He closed his eyes and let the tears well in his eyes. "I love him so much, and I just don't understand why he would do this to himself. In all the time we've spent together—and granted, it was not a lot—I've never known him to be a heavy drinker or to use any drugs."

"No, me neither," affirmed Grissom, slumping tiredly in his chair. "And it seems so out of character for him. But sometimes things happen that change someone. Luckily, we both found out about it in time to prevent something truly terrible from happening."

Though Ryan nodded in agreement, his eyes remained sad. "I just wish—" he started, but Horatio cut him off.

"Enough. We are concentrating far too much on the past, and it's time to consider what you and Greg plan on doing in the future."

Grissom nodded emphatically. "Horatio's right, Ryan. It's time to figure out what you and Greg are going to do, whether separately or together."

Half-smiling, Ryan said quietly, "Well, I'd obviously prefer that it was together, but I don't know if that will work for either of us."

"What do you mean?" asked Grissom, brow furrowed. "If you want to be with Greg, what's stopping you?"

Frowning, Ryan said calmly, "It's not as easy as that, as you should know. All current problems aside, Greg and I broke up for a reason, and those problems haven't necessarily been solved. I love him," he added, "but I don't know if I'm ready to get back into a relationship with him."

"Besides," added Horatio, "though he has a job waiting for him in Miami, I cannot in good consciousness hire him with his current problems."

Grissom looked even more troubled than before. "You're talking about Greg as if he were a drug addict," he said slowly. "Greg's got some problems, but I don't think he's addicted to anything."

Nodding once, Horatio said evenly, "No, but I think he needs help dealing with emotional issues. I think that Greg would benefit greatly from counseling, at the very least."

"I agree," said Ryan softly. "I think he needs to be able to deal with things so that he never goes down this road again. This is one place I never thought he or I would be. And as much as it kills me to be away from him, I can't be with him when he's like this."

Grissom gave him a piercing look. "So you do still want to be with him?" he asked quietly. "You do still want to try and make this work?"

Ryan's eyes still looked troubled. "Yes. I do want to try and make it work. But first, Greg needs to get help. Then we both have to figure what we want, and even if we still want the same thing. Then maybe we can go from there."

As Grissom's face lit up hopefully, Ryan cautioned softly, "Maybe. There are still things that I need to work out with Greg, and in his current state, I can't discuss those things with him." He stood and stretched. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go wait for him to wake up so that we can finally talk."

He left, and Grissom turned to Horatio. "Can we?" he asked softly.

"Can we what?" asked Horatio, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Can we dare to hope?"

Horatio let a smile break across his face and he sat back in his chair. "I think we can, Mr. Grissom. I think we can."

* * *

_**A/N (part II):** Coming up next--Greg and Ryan have a heart-to-heart...will all be resolved?_


	8. Chapter 8

**_A/N:_**_ Hi everyone! How y'all doing? A new chapter for you (woohoo!). It's my birthday present to you, since I just celebrated my birthday. I know this is a bit shorter than usual, sorry...and its the second-to-last chappie...boo. But there will be a sequel (yay!). Anyway, usual disclaimer applies...please read and review! And now to the chapter..._

Chapter 8

_"I bet it's simpler today  
Throwing everything away  
But the memory remains  
I bet it's simpler today  
Throwing everything away  
But the memory remains  
Forever"_

Ryan cracked the door just enough so that he could peak in. The golden ray of light the door let in cut through the darkness, illuminating just a sliver of Greg's face. The dim light cast faint shadows on Greg's face, highlighting every wrinkle and every crease. Still, Greg looked peaceful, the most peaceful he had looked all day.

Slipping through the cracked door, Ryan tiptoed to the bed. He pulled the chair over so that it was next to it, and then sat down, eyes never leaving Greg's face. He grabbed one of Greg's hands and held it, running his thumb over first the top of Greg's hand, and then his palm. He felt the familiarity of the skin, the soft, downy hair, the rough calluses, the deep lines in his palms. Ryan knew all of these like, literally, the back of his hand.

Ryan closed his eyes and struggled to breathe, his eyes filling with tears. He wanted nothing more than to be able to just hold Greg's hand for the rest of his life. Just to sit and hold Greg's hand, feeling the warmth of the skin beneath his…it would be enough. It would make it all worth it.

But he couldn't. If life were that simple, then it wouldn't be life. And he knew this now. He knew that life was anything but simple, and that love was the most complex aspect of any life. His and Greg's love was no exception. There was so much bad in their past, so much poison in their relationship that it had tainted their future in Ryan's mind. It had broken any chance that Ryan could comprehend of them being together forever. Yet now…now he didn't know. He wanted more than anything else in this world to be with Greg. Forever and always, no matter where forever took them.

"Forever," he whispered aloud, still holding Greg's hand, his eyes wet with tears. Then, louder, "Forever."

He turned his eyes upward, searching for something, anything. "God," he whispered, voice cracking. "God, if there is a God, if You're really there, please, listen to me. Hear my prayer. Let Greg get help…let Greg get better, please. I can't…I can't live without him, but I can't live with him, not when he's like this."

Ryan broke off, swallowing hard. "I love him," he whispered, over and over. "I love him."

He repeated this to himself until his head sank forward and he fell asleep.

* * *

Greg's eyes fluttered open, the bright morning sunlight piercing through his slitted eyes and making his head throb even more. He rolled over and saw Ryan, asleep on the edge of his bed, head resting on his arms, holding one of Greg's hands in his. Suddenly, he remembered the previous day's events in sickened horror. Groaning, he fell back against the pillow, closing his eyes.

His groan woke Ryan up. As the younger man slowly lifted his head up, blinking wearily, Greg lay as still as possible, pretending to be asleep. "I know you're awake," yawned Ryan irritably. "Pretending won't help you."

Opening one eyes, Greg tried to smile at Ryan. "Good morning!" he said, falsely cheerful. "It's awfully early, don't you think? Especially for any kind of serious talking. We should really wait until a more opportune…"

He trailed off, quailing under the scathing look Ryan gave him. "We're going to talk, here and now," said Ryan firmly. "This is a conversation we should have had a long time ago."

They sat in silence for a few minutes as Ryan struggled to find the right way to begin. "Drugs, Greg?" he finally asked, beginning with what he viewed as the worst. "You had to resort to drugs?"

Greg shrugged once, uncomfortable. He didn't answer Ryan at first, staring off into space. "You don't know what it's like," he finally said, softly. "To lose everything in a single moment. When I went back to Vegas, I had nothing."

"You left me with nothing, too," said Ryan softly, but the pain the simple phrase contained was cutting,

Looking at him, Greg said sharply, "I left you with everything, Ryan. You still had a house, a job, friends…my love for you. I had none of that. I went back to Vegas with literally nothing to my name."

Ryan stayed silent, clearly digesting and accepting this. Greg continued, avoiding meeting Ryan's eyes. "There was so much pain," he whispered brokenly. "It felt like my life was over. The pain…it was too much to deal with. So instead of dealing with it, I buried it and drugged it out of my system. If I was on drugs, then there was no more pain to feel."

"But Grissom found out," interjected Ryan softly, avoiding Greg's eyes as well.

Greg nodded, once, a wry smile touching his lips. "Good ol' Grissom, always watching out for me when I need it." His smile faded, replaced by a haunted look. "As it turns out, trying to hide things didn't work out so well either. Now I'm here, and I still have nothing."

Ryan wanted so bad to touch him, to just reach out and pull Greg to him and stroke his hair and tell him everything would be all right. Instead, he whispered harshly, "You have more than nothing, Greg. You have me. You had me. Always."

Greg looked up at him, shock in his wet eyes. "I still love you," continued Ryan softly. "I never stopped loving you, even after everything. And I believe…I hope that you still love me."

"Of course I still love you," whispered Greg, and amazed look on his face. "How could I ever stop loving you?"

Ryan paused. "I thought you didn't love me yesterday," he said hollowly, the pain still fresh. "When you walked away from me. How could you just walk away?"

Greg propped himself up on one elbow, contemplative. "Because I'm a walk-away person," he answered simply. "I've always been taught that walking away and avoiding or ending confrontation is best, so I've always done it. Look at our relationship—every time we've fought, who's walked away from it? Me. Our first fight—I took a walk to clear my head. I left the lab after we fought. Hell, I left Florida after we fought." He paused. "I even left yesterday, after I saw you. As I walked down the street, everything, every bone in my body screamed for me to turn around, to go back to you. But I just kept walking."

He sat up all the way. "I want that to end now. No more walking away, no more hiding what we feel. Nothing. Just you and me, together."

Smiling wistfully, Ryan gently reminded him, "But we still have other things to work out, like this problem with drugs and booze"

Greg waved his hand dismissively. "It's over, it's done. No more. I promise."

Ryan looked him right in the eyes. "Unfortunately, I don't believe that promise. Not after some of things I've witnesses. You need help, Greg."

Something flashed in the other man's eyes. "No, I don't," he said softly, eyes searching Ryan's. "What I need it…this!"

Greg lunged forward and pulled Ryan into a harsh, strong kiss, putting all the passion and anger and fear and longing into that one kiss. When it finished, they broke apart, but no more than an inch, Ryan's green eyes matching Greg's brown ones…

* * *

_**A/N (pt.2): **Haha, cliffie! I'm so cruel. Next chapter's the last, so make sure to tune in!_


	9. Chapter 9

_**A/N:** Last chapter, everyone. I know, it's sad. Not much to say about this chapter...Greg drops the f-bomb once, and there's a spoiler for the Pilot of CSI: and some other episode that I'm too lazy to figure out what it is. It's from season two, I think, and it's one line, so... Other than that, pretty much straight up. The first italicized paragraph is from the last chapter. Please read and review!  
_

Chapter 9

_"And this autumn air reminds  
How things all slowly unwind  
Changing times have been unkind  
To you  
As these days they slip away  
We grow closer to our graves  
Had the best time of my life  
Without you"__  
_

_Greg lunged forward and pulled Ryan into a harsh, strong kiss, putting all the passion and anger and fear and longing into that one kiss. When it finished, they broke apart, but no more than an inch, Ryan's green eyes matching Greg's brown ones_.

"No," said Ryan softly, pulling further away.

Clearly frustrated, Greg asked, his voice a forced calm, "What do you mean, no?"

Ryan sat up and said calmly, "No. Not this, not again. The physical chemistry between us is as strong as it has always been, Greg, but that's never been our problem. There is too much that we need to work on before we can start this again."

Now Greg didn't bother hiding his frustration as he snapped, "What do you want me to do, Ryan? I have given you my word that what has happened will never happen again. Why isn't that good enough for you?"

"Because you're an addict." Ryan's voice shook slightly, but he kept going. "And addicts lie to keep their addiction hidden. I'm sorry," he added, eyes burdened with his heartache. "Truly I am. But I can't do this when you're like this. I won't."

Greg's voice was tinged with desperation as he begged, "Tell me what you want, and I will do it. Tell me what you need from me and I will cross this entire world to get it so that we can be together and happy."

"I need you to get help. If you really truly want us to be together, you will get help so that we can be. I need you to be completely sober and completely clean, and then we can see about making this work, again." He stood up. "I'm willing to do this, Greg, but only if you are. I am willing to wait for you, however long it might take, if you are willing to step up and get help getting over and working through your problems."

He began to head towards the door, but Greg's voice called after him, "Wait! Where are you going?"

Taking a deep breath, Ryan turned back to him, his voice steady, even as his heart pounded wildly. "I'm leaving. I'm going back to Miami. You may have been the one to walk away in the past, but this time, I am."

"What?" Greg's voice cracked, and he looked lost, like a broken man, sitting on the bed staring up at Ryan. "You're leaving me? But I've only just gotten you back. You can't go now."

Ryan's eyes were wet with tears, and he whispered harshly, "I have to. My God, Greg, can't you see what this is doing to me? I love you with every molecule of my being, but seeing you like this hurts me deeper than you can even understand."

He paused and took a second to compose himself. "Once you understand," he continued, though he couldn't meet Greg's eyes, "once you realize that you have to get your life on track, and once you do it, once you get clean for good, then you can come find me. Then you can come to Miami and be with me for the rest of our lives. Until then, I can't be with you. I won't be with you."

Pausing for just one second more, he suddenly darted back to the bed and pulled Greg into a deep, if brief, kiss. "Come find me," he whispered again, eyes searching Greg's. "I'll be waiting for you; I swear it."

And with that said, he left, not even looking over his shoulder as the door shut behind him. He made it back to his and H's room, managed to throw his things in his bag and leave a note for Horatio explaining where he had gone. He took an elevator to the lobby, went outside, hailed a cab and calmly told the cabby to take him to O'Hare.

It was only then that he allowed himself to cry.

* * *

Horatio took a sip of orange juice and ate the last bit of his bagel before setting down the newspaper and stretching. Grissom walked slowly up to his table, forehead already furrowed. "Horatio," sighed Grissom tiredly. "I read Ryan's note." 

"Good," said Horatio, draining his orange juice. "Then you understand what's currently going on. I didn't want to have to try and explain it to you."

Taking a seat at the table with H, Grissom rested his chin on his hand, eyes questioning. "Did you talk to Ryan after he left?"

Horatio nodded once. "Yes. He called me from the airport to tell me that he was taking the 8:20 back to Miami. He…he sounded determined," he said wearily. "I don't think any of us will be able to change his mind on this one."

"No," agreed Grissom. "His note sounded very resolute, and from what I've seen, Ryan isn't one to be swayed easily." He paused. "We failed didn't we? It's not something I'm used to saying, but it's true. What we came here to accomplish didn't get accomplished."

Horatio was silent for a long time, his eyes thoughtful. "No, Mr. Grissom, we did not succeed in what we attempted to do. You are right in that aspect."

Grunting in agreement, Grissom asked, "Will you be going back to Miami, then? There can't be anything left here for you to do."

"Yes, I will be heading back to Miami later today. I'll probably leave for the airport in an hour or so." Pausing, he asked Grissom quietly, "What will you do?"

Grissom shrugged, clearly unhappy. "I'll take Greg back to Las Vegas, and we'll deal with what we have to deal with there, I guess. We both have enough vacation time stored up that I'll stay with him through rehab if I must."

Horatio nodded. "That will be good for him," he remarked. "He'll need someone there for him, now more than ever." Pausing, he added awkwardly, "Remember to tell Greg that the job for him in Miami is still his, if ever he wants to come back for it."

Nodding as well, Grissom said quietly, "Good luck back in Miami, Horatio."

"Godspeed, Mr. Grissom," said Horatio, putting his sunglasses on. "Godspeed."

* * *

Grissom paused outside of Greg's door, not wanting to disturb the man, but knowing that plans had to be made to go back to Vegas. Horatio had just left not fifteen minutes ago, and Grissom knew that there was nothing keeping Greg in Chicago besides memories. Bracing himself, Grissom knocked briskly on the door. "Greg?" he called softly, hoping that Greg had heard him. 

A minute or so later, Greg opened the door. He was still dressed in his clothes from the day before, and his hair bore the telltale signs of sleep. His face was pale, too pale, his eyes surrounded by dark circles, and he moved slowly, as if in shock. "Grissom," he said softly. "Come in."

He shuffled towards the bed and sat down, staring blankly at the wall. "I suppose Horatio told you," he said mildly, no emotion in his voice.

"Yes," said Grissom, sitting down in the armchair and watching Greg closely. "I'm so sorry, Greg. We all really wanted this to work."

Greg was silent for a few moments before he asked suddenly, "You don't think I'm an addict, do you?"

Grissom was taken aback by the suddenness of the question, and he took a few moments before answering. "Greg," he began, but Greg cut him off.

"You do, don't you?" he said, pulling his knees up to his chest and hugging them to him, eyes full of tears. "You all think that I'm an addict, to drugs or alcohol or whatever. But I'm not. I'm not like Warrick when he was addicted to gambling. I didn't cause anyone to die."

"No, but you lost the best thing that had ever happened to you, didn't you?" snapped Grissom. "You let it get in the way of the love of your life, and you may never get him back"

Greg froze, eyes sparkling with tears, and for one second, Grissom was afraid that he'd pushed Greg over the edge. Then Greg said softly, "I did, didn't I? I fucked up royally."

He sat in silence, mulling this over in his head. "Ryan told me to come find him when I was clean," he said finally, looking up at Grissom. "And I intend to." His eyes shone with a fierce light that Grissom hadn't seen there in a long time, and for the first time since Greg came back from Miami, he looked alive again. "I will go back to Miami, and I will fight for Ryan with everything I have. Even if it takes me the rest of my God-given life, I will win him back."

Grissom looked at Greg closely, and all he saw was the same determination that had driven the younger man from the lab and into the field, and even the same determination that led him to find DNA where no DNA could be found. "What will you do, then?"

"There's a clinic," started Greg, then he broke off, embarrassed. "Rehab. North of Miami. I, uh, I did some research on it. For a case. It looks really nice. They use a lot of different methods…one that I'd like to try, using surfing to heal." He looked up at Grissom, eyes filled with tears again. "I can't go back to Las Vegas, Griss. You know that."

Grissom gripped Greg's shoulder and he said gently, "Greg, I knew that ever since you came back to Vegas the first time. Miami is your home now, and you belong there, with Ryan." Pausing, he added softly, "We'll all miss you in Vegas, but we all understand, too. After all, 'True love is like rain; it touches all who see it.'"

Greg looked up at Grissom and nodded, tears beginning to stream down his face. "I feel like this is the end, Griss, like I'll never see you guys again."

"To make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from," quoted Grissom. "T.S. Eliot." He gripped Greg in a rare hug and said quietly, "Greg, you have to concentrate on your future with Ryan now. That doesn't mean that you can't call or write or visit, but you have to look to the future."

They broke apart and Greg wiped his cheeks and grinned shakily. "Thank you, Grissom," he said, smiling his first real smile in days. "For everything. Even for this miserable, ass-backwards trip to Chicago. Only a true friend would go through this with me."

Grissom smiled. "Go and get Ryan back, Greg. You deserve happiness."

"Yeah," agreed Greg, a small smile forming on his face. "Yeah, I guess I do. And we will be happy, one way or another. It may take a long, long time, but we're going to be alright in the end."

He began to pack up his things. Grissom helped him, both men working in comfortable silence. When they had finally finished, Greg turned to Grissom and gave him a quick hug. "We only part to meet again," he quoted. "John Gay." When Grissom gave him a strange look, he shrugged, a smile breaking out on to his face. "I'm a sponge, remember? I absorb things."

Grissom shook his head, smiling widely. "I remember, Greg. I remember."

Shouldering his bag, Greg headed to the door. Pausing, he turned back and said quietly, "Good-bye, Grissom. Thank you."

Then he was gone, through the door and down the hall, walking tall like a man who was finally on his way to where he belonged. Grissom sat down on the bed, a smile beginning to form on his face as well. Still smiling, Grissom pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number.

"Horatio Caine."

"A man travels the world over in search of what he needs and returns home to find it," said Grissom, grinning like an idiot. "George Moore."

Horatio paused before asking, "What does that mean?"

"That means he's going home," said Grissom. "Greg is going home."

* * *

**_A/N (pt.2): _**_Well. That's that. Thank you to everyone who reviewed: Kate McT, Dark Angel's Blue Fire, Shadowfax27, Wolflady, AFreakInside, SweetLittleCat, Chase Me, madden, Little Artemis, beckybabe, Iluv-the-o.c001, kitsune, kitty, Beaglicious, Marblez, Cassio, klnolan, BlackIceNinja, Lady arcane, Redpixie55, Yahari, Trix are for kids., Kat1132. Thanks also to everyone who alerted or favorited this story, or just anyone who read it._

_ Look for the sequel coming out sometime in August (I'll be gone in Ireland for awhile), tentatively titled "I Will Always Return". _

_Once again, thanks everyone.  
_


End file.
